


i'm afraid to let you go because i don't know if you're real (please let me hold you tonight)

by i_write_shit_pls_read_it



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: "everyone hooks up at weddings", F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I regret so many things, One Shot, Post 6x12, Smut, Wedding things, during a wedding, except in this case the wedding is three days so its more, i'm going to stop tagging now, it has not been proofread at all, just shut up and take the damn fic, mostly that I stayed up until 1am to finish this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 17:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18265637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_shit_pls_read_it/pseuds/i_write_shit_pls_read_it
Summary: I saw a tumblr prompt for Samar and Aram are getting married and Liz and Ressler dance at the wedding. And of course three hours and half a bag of cookie dough later this monstrosity emerged on my computer somehow. There is fluff and a wee bit of angst and also sexy times because Keenler shipping is a cold dark hole and I was starved for fics before remembering I can write my own. Happy ending or whatever. I don't know what I'm doing. Oh and I did some research on Jewish/Muslim weddings and even though the details are minor I did my best to honor the religions, but please let me know if I screwed up.





	i'm afraid to let you go because i don't know if you're real (please let me hold you tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> Alright you little fuckles listen up. This is my first ao3 work and I was terrified to post it so if you give me any negative feedback I *will* spontaneously start crying. Don't test me. I adore Keenler and I despise Keen2/Tom Keen with every fiber of my being but I tried to keep that to a minimum in this fic since it's mostly canon compliant post 6x12. Written before 6x13 and whatever else comes out so you know, have fun or whatever. Maybe send requests and I'll write them if I feel like it.

Liz had a superstition about getting dressed up in that she tried not to do it. The most recent time she could ever remember even putting on a dress had been for her second wedding and that had just gone so well, what with the barrage of bullets and all.

Taking both her superstition and day job into account, and Liz had depressingly few wedding-appropriate attire options in her closet. Liz pressed her head against the wall and breathed her frustration out through her nose. It wasn’t like she was entirely out of time. But the wedding ceremonies started in two weeks and so she was definitely cutting it closer than she should. Because Samar and Aram were both firmly attached to their religions, the actual wedding would be mostly Jewish for Samar, but the ceremony itself would last three days and include numerous Muslim traditions for Aram’s benefit.

Because Liz was as Muslim as she was Hawaiian, Samar and Aram had assured her typical formalwear was fine. Problem was, she hadn’t realized until now how few black tie level outfits she had.

Liz groaned, and walked backwards to collapse on her bed, wallowing in self-pity. Maybe she could just go naked.

She snorted at the thought, the sound echoing in her empty apartment. Liz felt a sudden pang of loneliness. Her apartment was always empty, especially now that Jennifer was gone. It had been nice to have someone to talk to, someone who she had known would be waiting when she got home. These days the most familiar face in her life outside of work was Shaun, the guy who most frequently dropped off her online orders from Wing Yee’s.

Speaking of which, the doorbell rang. Liz jumped to her feet, quickly pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt. She crept up to the door, footsteps silent, and peered through the door. Pulling back in surprise, Liz blinked, before looking again. Since when did Ressler moonlight as a Chinese delivery guy? But there he was, standing outside her apartment at eleven pm with plastic bags in hand. She felt her hands go to her hair, automatically attempting to straighten it as her heart beat sped up very slightly. She wondered if she had time to go run back to her room and put on a cuter shirt, instead of the one she was wearing right now that had a stain on the neckline. The doorbell rang again, and Liz closed her eyes, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person. She forced herself to wait six more seconds so it wouldn’t seem like she’d been standing there debating with herself, before calmly unlocking and opening the door.

She feigned a look of surprise. “Ressler, hi, what’s going on?” Liz asked. One good thing to come out of the painful dance she’d done with Reddington, she now had an excellent poker face.

Ressler held up the bags, his mouth doing that thing it sometimes did when it seemed like he wanted to smile but didn’t really remember how. “Easy, Keen. I bring gifts.”

Liz smiled, a real one, and stepped aside to let him enter. “I wasn’t aware the hourly wage for FBI special agents was so pitiful we had to pick up second jobs. I better start dusting off my résumé.”

Ressler chuckled as he walked in and headed over to place the bags on her counter. “I was on my way over and ran into the delivery guy in the lobby, figured I’d save him a trip upstairs.”

Liz shut and relocked the door. “And exactly how did you know it was my delivery?”

Ressler raised his eyebrows at her as he started unpacking her dinner. “Based on my educated guess as a non-profiler, I figured there weren’t that many people likely to be ordering from a restaurant forty-five minutes away in the middle of the night.”

Liz gave a bashful laugh as she walked over. “Point taken.” She started opening the containers to see if everything had come, and glanced up at her partner. “You want anything?”

Ressler shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Liz nodded, before biting the proverbial bullet. “So I’m just going to go ahead and address the metaphorical elephant in the room. What are you doing here so late?”

Ressler cleared his throat. “Well I just got off the phone with Aram, and I have a bit of an awkward favor to ask.”

Liz raised her eyebrows as she filled a cup up with water and started eating fried rice. “Whose body do I need to bury?” she joked.

Ressler laughed, and she felt a warm fluttery feeling in her chest. “Nothing that drastic, don’t worry. Aram apparently has a cousin coming to the wedding, and her mother has been trying to marry her off for a while now.”

Liz nodded, not seeing the favor. “And?”

Ressler’s expression grew uncomfortable. “And, his single, female cousin is looking for a date to the wedding to show her mother that she’s going to marry whoever she wants, and I’m not a huge fan of blind dates.”

He seemed like he was done talking, but Liz was still lost. “I still don’t see the favor,” she confessed, eating another bite.

Ressler looked deeply pained at having to spell it out for her. “And Aram knows I don’t have a girlfriend, my last experience with Alter Ego didn’t turn out great, and so I was wondering if you’d come to the wedding with me.”

Liz choked on her rice, coughing harshly as Ressler held out the cup of water to her, looking concerned. “You all right?” he asked, when she could breathe again.

“Fine,” Liz gasped, wiping away a few tears from her eyes before taking the water he offered. She swallowed it, coughed a few more times, and looked back at Ressler. “Sorry about that, you caught me off guard.”

Ressler looked sheepish. “Obviously you don’t have to say yes, I just assumed you wouldn’t have a date either, and so I figured what harm could it do to ask. Clearly I didn’t factor death by rice into the equation.”

Liz laughed, taking another drink of water. “In your defense, not many sane people would.”

He laughed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “So if you were to say yes, hypothetically, it would only be as friends. I’d pick you up, take you to the wedding, and we’d sit together, but no other obligations.”

Liz nodded, drinking more water to buy herself time to answer. She wanted to go to the wedding with Ressler more than she wanted to admit to him, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to be as blasé about it as he was. She took her time swallowing, before glancing over at him, noticing how hopeful he looked. “His cousin must be pretty ugly if you’re desperate enough to drive over this late,” she joked, still stalling.

“Actually I don’t know what she looks like,” Ressler confessed. “But I tend to avoid blind dates as a general rule of thumb, and after the last time Aram tried to set me up, he’s at the bottom of my potential match-maker list.”

Liz frowned. “Hang on, the last time?”

Ressler waved a hand dismissively. “It was about a year ago, while you were taking a sabbatical. I’ve repressed most of the memory but let’s just say it did not go well.”

Liz smiled, feeling safe enough to start eating again. “I have to warn you, if I do say yes I may have to show up in jeans. Turns out my closet needs a bit of updating.”

Ressler looked relieved. “Wear pajamas for all I care, just as long as I don’t have to spend the entire ceremony with some girl I’ve never met before whose name I can’t pronounce.”

Liz chuckled, giving him one last appraising look. “Sure, I’ll go with you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re sure?”

She nodded, smiling. “Yeah, it’ll be fun. I have to get to the wedding early in the morning to help Samar get ready so you don’t have to worry about picking me up, but I’ll sit with you for the rest of it.”

Ressler exhaled audibly, rocking back on his heels. “Thanks Keen, I owe you one.”

Call me Liz, she wanted to say, loving the way her name sounded coming out of his mouth. But she didn’t. “I’m sure I’ll think of some way you can repay me.”

He gave her that little smile again, before straightening up. “I should get back,” he said, but made no move to leave.

Or you could stay, that traitorous voice whispered in the back of her head. “Drive safely,” she said instead.

She might’ve imagined it, but Liz could’ve sworn disappointment flickered across his face, before smoothing out into his usual cordial expression. “See you tomorrow,” Ressler said, walking around her.

Liz leaned back on the counter as he left and shut the door behind him. “Coward,” she muttered angrily, the memory of a thousand and one missed opportunities weighting down her shoulders.

Feeling almost sulky, Liz grabbed her rice and orange chicken, and walked over to her coffee table, pulling out a computer. Maybe she could buy a dress online. If Ressler was coming as her date – well, platonic and for strictly convenient reasons date – she definitely couldn’t go naked.

Without permission, her brain somehow put two and two together and got five and Liz found herself wondering about if Ressler went to the wedding naked. An absurd giggle forced its way out of her throat as heat rose in her cheeks, and she groaned, grabbing a pillow and pressing it into her face. This was a horrible idea.

***

“What’s this part of the wedding called again?” Liz asked.

She and Samar and a bunch of women from the happy couple’s family were sitting around getting intricate henna drawn on their hands, and in Samar’s case her feet.

“It’s the mehndi,” answered Samar, careful not to move any part of her body and risk damaging the intricate designs. “It’s a Muslim celebration. The ceremony is going to last three days, and on the third day Aram and I will get married.”

Liz nodded, thinking back to the wedding outline Aram had emailed everyone. “And this is the part with all the dancing and drinking right?”

Samar laughed. “This is the party bit, yes.”

Liz looked down to where one of the dozen artists was drawing on her hands. “It’s beautiful,” she complimented. The pattern looked a bit like she was wearing lace gloves. The woman briefly smiled up at her, before returning to her work. Careful not to be too obvious about it, Liz eyed the younger women on the other side of the room, who were conversing merrily in a mixture of Urdu, Hebrew, and English. She was trying to suss out which of them was Ressler’s potential date.

Realizing she had no idea who she was looking for, Liz gave up, turning back to Samar. “Are you excited,” she teased, already knowing the answer. Samar had been smiling nonstop for the past two days.

Samar’s grin widened. “Very. Aram, however, is a bit disappointed Reddington can’t make it.”

Liz sighed, doing her best to look comforting. “In Reddington’s defense, now that he’s back on our most wanted list, he can’t exactly be seen dancing the Macarena at the wedding of two FBI agents.”

The bride-to-be laughed. “Very true. But who knows, maybe he’ll find a way to sneak in somehow.”

Liz inclined her head in agreement. “As long as he doesn’t bring any assassins as his date, I won’t object.”

Samar nodded, before latching on to the new subject. “Speaking of dates, I couldn’t help but notice that you and Ressler changed your RSVPs to be each other’s plus ones. Anything going on there?”

No, absolutely nothing, aside from him standing closer to me than necessary and holding eye contact a bit too long to be casual and him abandoning his girlfriend to help me rescue Jennifer at the drop of a hat, and the small little fact that I just want to kiss him all the time. “Oh, that. It’s nothing.”

Samar raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Of course, how silly of me to think that taking him as a date to my wedding was nothing.”

Liz tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. “Aram was trying to set Ressler up with one of his single cousins, and so he showed up at my apartment in the middle of the night desperate for an escape.”

Samar nodded in understanding. “Sounds about right. I love Aram dearly, but Cupid he is not.”

Liz laughed, turning as the henna lady drew back. “All done,” she announced, patting a lemon and sugar mixture over the design.

She peered down at her hands. “This looks amazing,” she declared, smiling at the woman who winked at her.

Careful not to damage the artwork, Liz leaned back in her seat, letting the noise of the room wash over her. Samar was conversing with Aram’s mother in some language that Liz couldn’t understand, and so she let her thoughts drift, determinedly not looking back at the cousins. She would see Aram later today, and when she did she would ask him who he’d been trying to set up with Ressler. Purely for curiosity’s sake of course.

***

Liz could count on one hand the number of weddings she’d been to in her life, but this one was definitely her favorite, if only for its lack of people trying to kill her or secretly plotting against her.

Because Samar was Jewish, the mehndi celebration was mostly for the benefit of Aram’s family, and so the men and women were celebrating together. Along with some other family of Samar’s, Liz had entered carrying a dupatta, a kind of large, bright yellow scarf, over Samar’s head. Aram’s party was about to enter, and so Liz and the other women had formed two lines.

Liz nervously fussed with the skirt of the outfit Samar had leant her. The actual skirt was mostly teal, and had green and blue stitching embroidering designs across the fabric. The top was a beautiful gold color that looked like it should be scratchy, but was somehow soft, and her long sleeves were the same color as the skirt. The dried red henna on her hands was bold against her skin. She’d checked the mirror more than a dozen times before heading out, and logically Liz knew there was no reason for her to be this nervous, she looked fine. But Ressler was going to be arriving, and she wanted to strangle herself for wanting to look good for that specific reason. Sure she was going to be his date, but his friend date.

Loud music started playing from just outside, and in came the men. Liz gripped her skirts and forced a smile.

The doors opened up and Liz realized she had never truly acknowledged how big Aram’s family was. Most of them were in what she assumed was a traditional outfit, involving a vest and a very long shirt, and they all seemed to be following a red black and gold color scheme. Aram was in the center, beaming as he hopped around with the rest of his entourage. Liz smiled and cheered with the rest of the women, as the lights turned down and the party got started.

There was a large wooden dance floor in the middle of the room, occupied mostly by people under thirty, but Aram and Samar had been out there with them for almost as long, looking like they were having the time of their lives.

Liz was sitting at a table with a bunch of much older Israeli women, pretending she could understand what they were saying, smiling politely when anyone spoke to her. She hadn’t seen Ressler enter with the rest of the men, and was trying not to be disappointed. At least she’d see him tomorrow.

“I thought you said you were wearing jeans.”

Relief swept through her and she smiled at the familiar voice. “I never specified,” she defended herself, turning to see Ressler and very nearly falling off her chair.

Liz tended to pride herself on her ability to articulate her thoughts, but when she saw her partner standing behind her looking drop-dead gorgeous in a black button-down shirt, black pants, and a scarlet suit jacket, the only words that came to mind were something along the lines of hhnnnnnngah, me want.

“You all right there Keen?”

Liz realized she was staring, and clicked her jaw closed. Unable to come up with a witty retort, she simply nodded, wishing her face would stop feeling like it was on fire. The number of times she had been knocked speechless in her life were few and far between, but this was definitely one of them.

Ressler held out a hand. “You want to get somewhere a little quieter?”

Still not capable of speech, she took his hand and let him pull her up. Was it her imagination, or did he hold onto her hand for just a second longer than he needed to? He turned and lead her through the room, and Liz immediately put the ridiculous idea out of her mind, using the time they were walking to desperately lasso her thoughts into some semblance of coherency. By the time they reached an empty table, she was almost literate again.

“Don’t you look rather dashing tonight,” she teased, grateful when her voice didn’t crack on the words as they sat down.

Ressler grimaced. “Aram picked it out.”

“Clearly he’s a better stylist than a matchmaker,” Liz grinned.

He chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Did he truly have no idea how amazing he looked? Liz let her posture become relaxed as she folded her arms on the table, despite her pulse thrumming like a hummingbird. “I didn’t see you enter with the rest of the guys. Were you running late?”

Ressler shook his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “Nah, I snuck in through the side entrance after the others.” Liz raised her eyebrows, and Ressler grew defensive. “I don’t dance Keen.”

Liz clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Poor Aram, his best friend ditching him, and on his wedding day.”

He winced at the emphasis she put on the last two words. “Point taken.”

Liz felt the stress leave her body as she laughed. She couldn’t say how long they talked for, and she didn’t want to guess. They were Keen and Ressler, partners, the same way they’d always been. She liked their dynamic best when they were able to just sit like this and talk the day away, whether they were discussing the latest blacklister, relationship issues, or anything else.

It reached the point where they were both watching what had devolved into a bit of a dance battle between the bride and groom’s respective parties, and Liz couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled this much.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married again?” Ressler asked suddenly.

Liz turned to look at him in surprise. Before this they’d been debating if the best pizza came from Jackson’s, or Little Italy. “Well I’m currently oh for two, so I’m not exactly eager to see if third time’s the charm,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “What about you?”

Ressler shrugged. “I hope so.”

If she waited too long to ask, it would seem awkward, if she asked too quickly she’d seem eager. Liz waited four seconds, purposely keeping her voice curiously neutral, before asking, “Anyone specific in mind?”

Ressler raised his eyes to hers and she didn’t look away. “Sometimes.”

Liz thought her face might actually be on fire. Why was he still staring at her? There was a sudden cheer from the dance floor, and they both turned to see two of the guys doing complex-looking gymnastics. Liz turned back to Ressler, but the moment was gone and the tension had broken. “I’m going to get a drink, you want anything?” he asked.

“Water’s fine,” she managed to say, burying her face in her hands the second his back was turned. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she seem to quash that one last bit of hope in her chest that constantly nagged at her what if?

“Liz!”

Liz lifted her head and turned as Aram dropped into the chair Ressler had just vacated, panting and beaming. “Hey Aram. Congratulations.”

His grin became so wide she was surprised his cheeks didn’t split from the strain of it. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he confessed. “I keep waking up in the middle of the night and poking her just to make sure it’s real.”

Liz smiled. “And how does Samar feel about being prodded at all hours of the night?”

Aram looked chastised. “She’s not a huge fan actually. I’ve been banished to the couch until our wedding night.”

Liz laughed, leaning over to give Aram a hug. “I’m so happy for you two,” she said, before drawing back. “I can’t think of two people more deserving.”

Aram’s grin suddenly became very mischievous. “What about you and Ressler? You two haven’t spoken to anyone else all night.”

Liz rolled her eyes, ignoring the thrum of her pulse. “Yeah, because he’s the only other person here who consistently speaks English.”

“Sure, maybe, but then why are you two coming to our wedding together?” the future groom waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Everyone hooks up at weddings you know.”

Liz shook her head, refusing to allow herself to look disappointed. “No offense, but Ressler’s only coming with me to avoid having to go with your cousin.”

Now Aram looked confused. “What cousin?”

“The cousin you were trying to set him up with,” Liz elaborated. When Aram still looked confused, Liz felt her heartbeat kick into high gear. “You did try and set him up with a cousin, didn’t you?”

“No,” said Aram slowly, still looking confused.

Liz’s thoughts were going a mile a minute, but before she could say anything Ressler sat back down on the other side of Aram, looking disgruntled. “The kids all wanted to know what the ‘old white guy’ was doing at the party,” he groused.

Normally Liz would’ve laughed, but right now she was suddenly incapable of using any of her mental faculties. Indeed, all her wits seemed to have abandoned her.

Ressler pushed over Liz’s water and Aram sprang up, looking guilty. “Oh look, there’s my cousins Mehreen and Maheen, I haven’t seen them in ages.” He promptly fled.

“What were you two talking about?” Ressler asked, and Liz’s thoughts whited out.

“Why’d you lie about the cousin?”

Oh crap. Why the hell had she just done that?

His ears reddened, but he didn’t answer. “Excuse me?”

Take it back. Change the subject. “Aram said he never tried to set you up with one of his cousin’s, so why did you lie to me about it?”

Ressler’s eyes locked on hers and the temperature of the room seemed to rise ten degrees. “Because I wanted to take you to the wedding,” he said honestly.

Liz thought she might have a stroke. “Then why not just ask me that?”

He swallowed once before answering. “Because I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

Liz was unable to move her eyes off of his. “I would’ve said yes.”

Suddenly the walls off the room were pressing in and her chest seemed to collapse in on itself. Liz forgot how to breathe, and felt a sudden and inexplicable need to scratch her own skin off. A wave of panic crested inside her, overriding all other instincts. “I have to go.”

She leapt up and Ressler leaned back, for a second looking surprised and hurt. She hadn’t even realized he’d leaned forward. Not giving herself time to think about it, Liz hastily turned, grabbing her purse and jacket, babbling excuses. “The stove, in my apartment, I left it on. I have to go make sure the place doesn’t burn down. I’ll see you tomorrow, say bye to Samar and Aram for me.”

Unable to look at him, she turned, and walked away as quickly as she dared, not even sure what she was running from.

***

Liz slammed on the brakes as she parked outside her building, breathing heavy as she sat in her car. Her throat started to burn, but she forced herself to hold it together, at least until she reached the safety of her own apartment.

She opened the door and dashed inside, tapping her foot impatiently the entire elevator ride, arms wrapped protectively around herself. A bell rang to announce the arrival at her floor, Liz practically ran down the hall, her fingers shaking so hard that it took her one, two, three tries to fit the key into the lock.

She shut the door behind her and immediately slumped against it, sinking down to the floor, shoulders shaking. What was wrong with her?

“Lizzy?”

Oh god. Not now.

She raised her tearstained face to see Reddington and Dembe in her living room. Liz took a deep breath as she stood, smoothing out her skirt. “Hey,” she managed, aiming for some semblance of dignity. “What are you guys doing here.”

“Nothing important, I assure you,” Reddington said, striding over. Concern was etched across every line of his face. “Lizzy what happened?”

She opened and closed her mouth, trying to find an answer to his question. She felt light-headed. “Ressler,” she managed to say, before another wave of painful emotions rose up in her chest and her knees went out from beneath her. Reddington caught her before she hit the floor, and she wrapped her arms around him, grateful for the support.

Liz rested her head on his shoulder, blinking out the remaining tears, before straightening. “I’m going to change,” she announced, needing to clear her head.

She walked over to her room, shutting the door firmly behind her. Careful not to damage Samar’s beautiful outfit, she undressed, laying the skirt on a chair in the corner before pulling on gray sweatpants and a Quantico shirt. She glanced in the mirror and frowned in distaste at how red her eyes were. How pathetic.

When she reentered the living room, Red and Dembe were waiting patiently, along with steaming hot cups of tea on the coffee table. She smiled gratefully at them, heading over to sit on the couch, grabbing a cup on her way.

“Now Lizzy, you said something about Ressler?” Red prompted. “Do I need to kill him?” Dembe cracked his knuckles pointedly.

Liz laughed tiredly, taking a sip from her mug. Mint tea. The kind Sam used to make her when she was a little girl. “No, nothing like that,” she assured him.

Everything about Reddington said comfort. “Well do you want to talk about it?”

Liz shrugged, hunching her shoulders to make herself seem small and drank some more tea. “He asked me to come with him to Samar and Aram’s wedding.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Red raised his eyebrows.

She shook her head. “Well the thing is, he didn’t actually ask me, he asked me because Aram was trying to set Ressler up with his cousin and he didn’t like going on blind dates. But then I asked Aram about it, and he said that never happened, and Ressler said he just wanted to ask me and didn’t think I’d say yes.”

Red drank his own tea. “And would you have said yes?”

Liz nodded. “Yeah, and I told him that.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

Liz moaned. “I don’t know. He said he wanted to ask me, I said I’d say yes, and then next thing I know I’m running out like the building’s on fire. I don’t know what came over me.”

Dembe snorted, his already empty mug on a coaster. “You two are like teenagers,” he said derisively.

Liz glared at him. “You’re not helping,” she snapped.

Reddington looked equally amused. “Lizzy I’m sorry, but I really don’t see the issue. Our very own Special Agent Donald Ressler wanted to ask you on a date, and you wanted him to ask you on a date. I’m afraid I’m at a bit of a loss as to where the problem lies in this scenario.”

Liz swallowed too much tea and coughed, wiping her face as some dribbled down her chin. “I told you, I don’t know. I just panicked.”

“In my vast experience, the emotion of panic is typically tied to fear. Were you afraid of something?” Red pressed.

Liz tried to think back, but it was a blur. “Maybe,” she hedged, gripping the clay mug so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Personally, I have a general fear of the sun going supernova and killing us all instantaneously, even though I understand that won’t happen for another four billion years or so. Regardless, I doubt that was the issue here. So what exactly do you think you were afraid of?”

Liz shook her head, taking another sip of tea. “In my adult life, I’ve only ever had one serious relationship, and that was with Tom.” She spoke slowly, running a finger around the rim of her mug. “We got married twice. The first one I annulled after he turned out to be a sociopath who was spying on me, and the second time I ended up a widow and in a coma for the better part of a year.”

Reddington set his mug down and looked at her pensively. “Are Ressler and Tom the same person?”

Liz shook her head. “That’s not the point. If we start going out I’m going to end up losing him one way or another.”

“Based on what logic?” Red demanded. “Elizabeth I understand your psyche has withstood considerably more scarring than the average John, but your past is in no way indicative of your future. Go to Ressler. Talk to him. Or sleep with him, this is the twenty-first century. But don’t live in fear of what might happen.”

Liz took a deep breath, and swallowed the last of her tea. She had faced down terrorists, all kinds of traffickers, a deranged husband and an international cabal. She could have an adult conversation. She looked down at her sweatpants. “I think I’m going to need to change clothes.”

***

It had taken Liz the better part of an hour to decide what to wear. She couldn’t change back into her mehndi outfit, and if she put something cute on it would seem like she was trying too hard. If she went in sweats and her Quantico shirt, it would seem like she didn’t care at all. After throwing most of her clothes on the floor, she’d managed to settle on a pair of skinny jeans, and a clean white tee shirt. You could see her black bra through it if you squinted. After another agonizing internal debate that had had Dembe rolling his eyes so hard she’d thought they might fall out of his head, she’d settled on cute ankle boots with a little bit of heel. Easy enough to put on, but not the ugliest thing she owned either.

And now she was sitting outside Ressler’s building, her car in park, trying desperately to come up with an excuse. He might not even be home from the party yet. He might not want to see her. She might have misinterpreted what he meant earlier. In an ironic twist of fate he might have taken home one of the many cousins at the wedding.

Fed up with herself, Liz practically tore the keys out of the engine, and threw open the car door. It was raining when she stepped out, and Liz almost fell back into her seat. “If you take this as a bad omen,” she said out loud to herself. “Dembe will never let you hear the end of it.”

She took a deep breath, and climbed out of the car. The rain was coming down heavy. She ran straight to the building, and still managed to get soaked. She glanced at her reflection in the doorway, and tried not to hyperventilate. Her hair was a mess, and now you definitely didn’t have to squint to see her bra.

Liz pushed open the door, and took the stairs rather than the elevator, attempting to work off some excess energy. She reached his floor and left the stairwell, trying in vain to control her breathing. Standing outside his door, Liz raised and dropped her hand multiple times, unable to bring herself to knock. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She could do this.

She made a fist and quickly knocked on the door, glancing behind her as she did so, before scowling. What was she even looking for? A kindly god standing by to smite her if this went badly?

The door opened and she whipped back around to see Ressler, staring at her in shock. And if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a little bit of hope in his face too. “Keen, what’s going on?”

Her hands were fluttering nervously at her side. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Ressler stepped aside, but she shook her head. “I was hoping I could stay in the hallway while I talked to you.”

He raised his eyebrows, but complied, and now her eyes left his face for the first time and she realized that he was still wearing his suit from the wedding. “Did you just get home?” she asked. Stalling, again.

Ressler nodded. “About five minutes ago. Why?”

Liz nodded, bouncing her leg, desperately trying to think of something to say, and significantly annoyed that he managed to look so jaw-droppingly stunning while she was a bedraggled mess. “Why aren’t you more soaked?”

“I parked underground. Keen, why are you here?” Now he sounded impatient.

She commanded her arms to keep still. “Because I would’ve said yes.” Ressler’s face was impassive, and even though every self-preservation instinct she had was screaming at her to run away, Liz held her ground. “Because if you’d asked me to come with you to the wedding, I would’ve said yes.”

Ressler folded his arms, and Liz kept her eyes firmly on his face. “Why’d you run off?”

What was it about this man that made her considerable intelligence abandon her every time she needed it the most? “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then why are you here?” Ressler demanded, and she could hear pain and irritation leak into his voice.

“Because I don’t want to talk about it.”

Before she could self-sabotage or talk herself out of it any more than she already had, Liz took two steps forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

For one brief second, his lips were hard and unyielding under hers, and terror grew through her very bones, that maybe he didn’t want to kiss her.

Humiliated and defeated, Liz quickly drew back, unsure of what to do or say. Ressler was staring at her in shock, and she felt her face burn with shame. Her words tripped over themselves on her tongue, unsure if she should apologize or skip straight to begging for forgiveness or simply flee the scene and let him pretend this had all been a nightmare.

The third option was the most appealing, and her feet were turning before she’d even decided to run, already wondering how she could bear to face him, to work with him.

But then his large, strong hands were on her arms, pulling her back to him, and her eyes slammed shut just as his lips pressed onto hers.

Liz couldn’t help the moan that slipped out as he kissed her, grabbing his red jacket with her hands and pulling him closer. Kissing Ressler was better than when she’d been learning firearms at Quantico and hit the bulls-eye for the first time, better than when she successfully closed a case, better than any other kiss she’d ever had in her life. It was driving down the highway at midnight with the windows rolled down and the radio playing at full volume.

He turned and took Liz with him, and then the door slammed shut and her back was pressed into the wall. Ressler’s hands moved to bury themselves in her wet hair, and then her eyes rolled back into her head as his lips moved down from her mouth to her neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin there, and her knees buckled and she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep herself upright, using her feet to toe off the boots.

Ressler finally drew back from her neck and she knew with heady clarity she’d have a mark there tomorrow. The thought made her ecstatic. Emboldened, Liz grabbed the front of his jacket and pushed it off of his arms, before her fingers seemed to grow minds of their own and immediately started working at the buttons of his shirt.

But there were too many buttons and she was far too impatient, and so as Ressler once again moved in to kiss her she gripped the two sides of his shirt and pulled, the buttons pinging against the floor as they fell around them. Ressler laughed into her mouth, and the sound went immediately to the spot between her legs.

“I liked that shirt Keen,” he gently scolded, and she placed her hands on his neck, pushing him back to look at her, breathing hard.

“Call me Liz,” she demanded, watching his face shift as she said it.

“Liz,” he breathed, and her insides liquefied at the sound. She drew him back down to her, moaning again, louder this time, as his tongue swept inside her mouth. Then his hands were on the hem of her still-soaked tee shirt, and they parted for a painful second as it came up over her head and Ressler tugged it the rest of the way off, throwing it somewhere unimportant.

Suddenly Ressler leaned down and placed his hands under her thighs, and he hitched her up. Liz gasped out a laugh, legs going around him like a reflex, hooking her bare feet together so that they rested just above the small of his back as he pushed her up against the wall, pressing a necklace of kisses to her collarbone. Her head hit the wall with a thud, and for a second she wondered if they might do it right here against the wall, but then logic kicked in and she remembered that a second unplanned pregnancy was the last thing she needed.

“Tell me you have protection,” she breathed, running her fingers through his hair.

Ressler brought his lips up to her ear, and she felt him nod. “In the bedroom,” he growled, and then he bit down on the lobe, causing her to cry out in surprise and pleasure. Then he turned and set her back down on the floor, but didn’t stop kissing her as they started maneuvering their way through his apartment, towards what she could only assume was his bedroom.

As they moved, Liz finished shoving his now slightly damaged shirt off his shoulders, scowling in exasperation at the white tank top he was wearing underneath. “Why do you have so many clothes,” she complained.

His chest rumbled as he laughed, hands gently rubbing beneath her bra straps. “I thought you’d like a challenge Liz.”

Becoming putty in his hands at the sound of her name from his lips, Liz moaned, and then her knees hit something soft and she realized they’d made it to his room.

She let herself fall backwards onto the bed, and Ressler dropped to his knees in front of her, fingers dancing along the waistband of her jeans as she writhed on the mattress.

Finally he moved to open the button and zipper, before pulling the wet jeans off her legs at a torturously slow pace. She noticed with some dissatisfaction, that he left her underwear on. Ressler stood and crawled onto the bed, and somehow Liz regained enough control of her muscles to push herself backwards, forcing him to follow.

Unwilling to let him have all the control, Liz reached a hand down and grabbed at his belt, yanking it off as quickly as physics allowed, and tossed it off the side of the bed.

Ressler lowered his face back to where he’d kissed her earlier on the neck, and then moved down to her collarbone. His hands went behind her back and snapped open her bra, sending goosebumps up and down her arms. He tugged the damp bra off her arms, and Liz felt a rush of stupid pride as his eyes widened at the sight of her. She could see his throat bob as he swallowed. “Jesus Liz,” he whispered, sounding a little in awe of her.

She sat up slightly, just enough to slide her hand beneath the waist of his pants. “Don’t stop now,” she teased, satisfaction coursing through her as his mouth hung open a little. “We’re just getting to the good part.”

Ressler grinned at her, an actual, daring smile, and he sat up to tug his undershirt the rest of the way off. Her throat went a bit dry at the sight of his bare, scarred skin. And then he was ducking his head back down, and his lips closed around her breast and she actually screamed, before clapping a hand over her mouth.

But he grabbed her hand and pulled it off, and feeling a little dizzy, she opened her eyes to give him a questioning look. His face was open and vulnerable as he traced his callused thumb over her bottom lip. “I want to hear you,” he breathed, and Liz knew with certainty right then and there that no one had ever said anything sexier to her in her entire life. And when he returned his mouth to her breasts she didn’t muffle her cry.

Eventually he moved down, tracing patterns with gentle kisses down her stomach, before hooking his fingers into her underwear and pulling them all the way down. Liz was so turned on she thought she might actually die. Ressler stood as he finished stripping her clothes off, and tugged off his own pants, and she could see evidence of his own arousal clearly enough through his gray boxers. She was expecting him to come right back up and kiss her again, but instead when he got back on the bed he kneeled down and started to kiss along the inside of her thigh.

Fireworks were going off inside her rib cage, as she realized what was coming next.

Teasingly, leisurely, his mouth moved upwards, his pace practically glacial. “Ressler,” she begged, squirming beneath his touch.

He paused, eyes glittering up at her, and then with no warning he ducked his head down and licked up and Liz cried out again.

With each of his movements, she fell deeper and deeper into a well of pleasure the likes of which she’d never felt before. In her sanest moments, she glanced down and saw his head moving between her legs, and she somehow managed to commit the sight to memory.

Eventually it was all too much, and her entire body shuddered as she came apart beneath him with a cry.

The world shifted in and out of focus for a moment, the colors seeming brighter and blurrier than normal. Finally, she blinked and lifted her head to see Ressler still between her legs, giving her a smug look. “You up for round two?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Only if you’re sure you can handle it.”

Ressler’s grin widened, and he rolled off the bed. She was confused for a moment before realizing he was heading to the nightstand drawer, pulling it open and grabbing a familiar packet out. Liz moved up to her knees, and when he turned back she was right in front of him and wrapped her arms firmly around him, pressing her mouth into his. He tasted like gunpowder.

She pressed herself up against him and let her hands run up his arms and over his shoulders, before leaning down and kissing the scar on his chest. Ressler moaned, and Liz used his distraction to grab the packet from his hands and tear it open with her teeth.

He was ready for it to go on from the look of it, but she wanted to tease him a bit first. Still holding it in her teeth, she slowly rubbed him through the boxers, causing Ressler to swear as he buried his face in her neck. Running out of patience, Ressler pulled them off and pushed her back onto the bed, and Liz laughed as her head hit the pillow, grabbing the packet with her other hand.

He climbed back over her but Liz hooked her legs behind him and rolled, letting him be on the bottom for a change.

Making eye contact the entire time, Liz moved herself down to sit squarely on his legs, and slowly rolled the condom on, keeping her fingers light as she did so. Ressler moaned at each of her touches. She crawled back up, not moving until he looked at her, a smile dancing at her lips. “You ready?” she asked, needing to hear it.

He nodded, and his smile was a challenge that she took gladly, sitting up only to ease herself onto him.

Ressler swore, hands flying to grip her waist hard enough to bruise, and then she was moving her hips, watching as pleasure and bliss competed for dominance on his face.

Eventually his body arced up beneath her, causing Liz to fall forward onto his chest, which was rapidly rising and falling. “Jesus Christ,” he gasped, voice ragged.

Liz couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “I never knew you were so talented.”

He opened his eyes and grinned at her. “I don’t see how you could’ve, unless you’ve been peeping through my bedroom window.”

She laughed again, and moved off of him to fold herself into his side. “Alas, I have yet to add ‘voyeur’ to my long list of crimes.”

Ressler hummed, a content sound, wrapped his left arm around the naked skin of her back, electric currents running beneath her skin everywhere his thumb gently stroked her. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”

Liz’s toes curled as she realized they were going to have a conversation. “Do we really have to talk about this?”

Ressler’s hand stilled against her, and Liz immediately knew she’d said something wrong. “My bad.”

Liz sighed, and sat up to look at him. His other arm was folded beneath his head, making the muscles stand out. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He shrugged. “No, it’s fine. This can just be a one-time thing or whatever.”

“I don’t want it to be just a one-time thing,” Liz protested. She could feel him slipping away and pressed a hand to his chest. “Ressler, look at me.”

He did, but there was a slight scowl on his face. “I thought you didn’t want to discuss it Liz.”

“I don’t,” she agreed. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it again, I just don’t want to think about it if that makes sense.”

Ressler raised his eyebrows, pushing himself up so he was sitting with his back against the headboard. “No, it doesn’t.”

Liz took a deep breath. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time too,” she said. “But if we discuss this, I am going to self-sabotage, and push you away, and a bunch of other stuff that probably means I won’t ever get to do it again. There aren’t many things in my life that aren’t painful and confusing at the moment, but this.” She grabbed his hand with her own. “This feels good. It makes me happy.”

Ressler’s expression had gradually become less stony as she explained, and he now looked simply thoughtful. He lifted the hand she’d placed over his, her right hand, and brought it up to his mouth, lips gently pressing on her wrist, against the scar she’d gotten from the fire when she was a toddler. “It makes me happy too,” he agreed. “But we will have to discuss it eventually.”

Liz’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Eventually,” she agreed. “Just not tonight.”

“I do have one question,” he said.

Liz raised her eyebrows. “Go on,” she smiled.

“I can still take you to the wedding, right?”

***

Samar and Aram broke the glass and the reception hall cheered. Shouts of ‘mazel tov!’ rang throughout the room as the newlyweds kissed beneath the flowery white chuppah. Samar looked radiant in a long white gown with lace across the shoulders, and Aram’s happy energy could’ve powered a small city.

Liz cheered with the rest of the guests, and Ressler put his fingers into his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. She laughed at the sound as their friends started walking back down the aisle, and waved as they passed. They waved back, and Liz beamed.

The procession started filing over to the reception hall, where Samar and Aram would join them after something called yichid, which was Samar had explained was a Jewish tradition where the couple spent alone time together before rejoining the guests.

Ressler carefully laced his fingers together with Liz’s, and she gave him a reassuring squeeze. She’d ended up buying a dress from the outrageously priced boutique a couple streets over, but it was gorgeous enough to make up for it. The fabric was softer than water, and a deep buttery gold, with white flowers over the bodice. Ressler’s face when he’d seen her had been priceless.

They made it back inside where the party would be held, guests laughing and dancing to the music. Ressler looked at her and slightly inclined his head. “Shall we?”

Liz raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

He gave an unapologetic shrug. “It depends on the partner.”

Liz laughed, smiling at him, and let him tug her onto the dance floor. He clasped her hand with his and put the other on her waist, their bodies clicking together like they’d been made for each other. Liz draped her own hand around his neck and leaned her head forward to rest against his shoulder as they gently swayed, losing herself in the warmth of him.

“I’m glad to see you two managed to work things out.”

Liz jumped, whirling around at the familiar voice. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, looking around. “What if someone sees you?”

Reddington gave her an unconcerned smile, Dembe standing behind him as always, and waved at one of Samar’s relatives. “I’ve been on the run for decades now Lizzy, I’m confident I can avoid a lone wedding photographer.”

Ressler gave a soft laugh of disbelief, but didn’t move from his place behind her.

“Like I said. Happy to see you two have got it all worked out. I meant to tell you I was coming Elizabeth, but when you returned to your apartment two nights ago you had considerably more pressing matters at hand.”

Liz blushed, refusing to look at Ressler. “Well I know Aram will be glad you could make it,” she said, stepping forward to hug him.

Reddington embraced her tightly, and she felt him nod before pulling back. “I do seem to put a certain spring in his step don’t I? One wonders what he would ever do without me.”

“Wallow in self-pity I’m sure,” Dembe deadpanned. Liz giggled, as Red turned to his friend with a mock glare.

“Was that sarcasm?” he demanded. “Because I feel like that was sarcasm. Ah, well.” He cast a look around the colorful hall. “It was a beautiful ceremony, if I do say so myself, and I happen to have exceptionally high standards. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must go talk to Harold about the color of that tie he’s wearing. Lime green? Really? Puh.” Reddington started to walk off, but quickly turned to Liz one last time. “Oh, and Lizzy?” he pointed at Ressler and gave her a knowing look. “As much as I occasionally despise Donald, I must admit he is at the very least much better looking than Tom.”

Liz buried her face in her hands as Reddington merrily strode away, Dembe a step behind him. When she’d regained an ounce of dignity, she lifted her head and turned to see Ressler looking entirely too full of himself. “Better looking than Tom, huh?”

“Shut up,” Liz muttered.

Ressler wrapped his arms back around her waist, smiling down at her. “Never,” he vowed, and kissed her again.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @writer_gen


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